The Kid Without a Shadow
by JAM3.14
Summary: Norman has been watching a kid from across the street. There's something off about him.
1. Not a Ghost

**A/N: This is my first fanfiction. I'll update this as soon as I can, I'm pretty sure I have an idea of where this is going, but that may change as time goes on. Any reviews are welcome, I always like to know where I can improve. None of the characters from ParaNorman or Danny Phantom belong to me, they belong to their respective creators.  
**

Norman was watching the kid from across the street. The kid didn't live here — at least, Norman was pretty sure he'd never seen him before. A shiver went up Norman's spine. Yeah, he definitely would've remembered this guy.

There was just something... off about him. He gave Norman the heebie-jeebies. And that was not an easy thing to do, considering what had happened in Blithe Hollow just a few months ago.

Norman kept staring at the kid. He was about fourteen or fifteen, with messy black hair and a red and white T-shirt. He looked kind of average, to be honest. Someone who wasn't paying attention probably could've mistaken him for a normal teenager. But Norman knew something was up, something he couldn't quite put his finger on...

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw it. Maybe he hadn't noticed before because he had seen it so many times with ghosts but — wait, was this kid a ghost? He couldn't be, Norman decided. People were walking around him, which meant that they could see him, which meant —. Norman shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Okay, so this kid wasn't a ghost. Then what was he? Because he couldn't be human, at least, not entirely. He was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, on one of the sunniest days of the year — except he didn't have a shadow. _And now he was looking right at Norman._

Norman looked at the kid with wide eyes, then made a decision. He crossed the street and walked over to the kid. The kid looked at him, blinked, and started walking in the opposite direction.

"Hey!" Norman called, jogging to keep up. "Hey, are-are you a ghost?"

The kid looked back at him, almost disdainful, but a little sad too. Then he quickened his stride.

"Wait up! Look, I wanna help you!"

The kid stopped abruptly, and Norman almost ran into him. Norman swallowed, then forged ahead.

"You don't have a shadow."

The kid blinked. Norman looked down at his feet. He really hoped he hadn't been wrong about the kid's shadow - or lack thereof. If he had, this was gonna get really awkward, really fast.

"Are you some kind of ghost?"

The kid didn't say anything, just looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Norman tried a different tactic.

"Sorry, let me start over. My name's Norman, what's yours?"

The kid blinked again. Norman was starting to get really nervous.

"Can you talk?"

The kid stared at him, then slowly shook his head. Norman stepped forward and took a deep breath.

"Please stop running away. I want to help you."

The kid looked at Norman, then down at his feet, like he was making a decision. Then he moved to the side of the road and picked up a stick.

Norman backed away nervously, but the kid didn't attack him with it. Instead he scrawled something almost illegible in the dirt next to the sidewalk. Norman craned his neck and tried to make it out. It could barely be considered writing, but he finally managed to read what the kid was trying to say. It was two words, and Norman looked up at the kid as he tapped them impatiently with his stick. _Amity Park._


	2. Amity Park

**A/N: Thank you so much for the wonderful feedback! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter (that's why the update is so soon after the first). Reviews are welcomed. The characters from ParaNorman and Danny Phantom do not belong to me, they belong to their respective creators.**

Norman stared at the kid as he tapped the scrawled words more insistently. "Amity Park..." Norman read. "Is that your name or something?"

The kid shook his head and pointed in the direction he'd been walking. He tapped the writing once more to emphasize his point.

"Look... I don't understand what you're trying to say." Norman said. The kid's eyebrows creased in a frown and he started to point more frantically in the same direction.

As Norman looked on in confusion, the kid came to the conclusion that this approach wasn't working. He pointed at his stick.

"Yeah... it's a stick. I got that."

The kid pointed at his stick more insistently, then pointed at himself, and broke the stick in half. Norman bit his lip. He was way out of his depth here. He could understand ghosts and zombies and even powerful not-really-witches, but whatever this kid was? He had never even heard of something like this before.

The kid stuck the two halves of stick back together, then mimed breaking them apart again. He threw one half away, then pointed at the remaining piece, all the while looking at Norman pleadingly. An idea started to form in Norman's head. He wasn't sure if it was possible, he had never heard of something like this happening before. But if he was right, this was even bigger than he had imagined.

* * *

Courtney sat down on the couch. She glanced at the television and rolled her eyes. Norman had left it frozen on one of his stupid monster movies again, right at the part where the zombie/Frankenstein/whatever-it-was was about to eat someone. As she got up again to turn it off, she heard the front door slam, then the sound of hurried footsteps. Norman ran into the room, clearly out of breath, with some kid three years older than him in tow.

"Who the heck is that?" she said, gesturing at the kid.

"No idea." Norman said, "Can I use your phone?"

"Norman, what's going on? Why is there some kid that neither of us knows in the house? Is something weird happening again?"

"I told you. I don't know what's going on." Norman sat down on the couch, "There's something off about this kid. He doesn't have a shadow, and he can't speak, and I think he might be broken."

Courtney gazed at her brother in shock, before directing her attention to the kid who was now looking at the television screen with interest.

"Can I use your phone? I need to look up something called Amity Park. I think it might be important."

"Yeah, sure," she said, handing it over to him, not taking her eyes off of the weird kid. Now he had sat down on the couch and was staring into the space to his right.

"Oh, poop," Norman whispered a few seconds later.

Courtney whipped her head around and glared at him, "Whaddaya mean _'oh, poop?'_ What happened?"

Norman wouldn't meet her eyes as he handed her phone back, "Do you think Mom and Dad would mind if you took me on a cross-country road trip for no particular reason?"

 **A/N: So... how'd I do? Did I make the mystery too obvious? I can never tell...**

 **Anyways, if you can guess what's up with Danny, you get a (metaphorical) cookie! Also, the next update to this story will probably be to rewrite the first chapter. I've read over it, and I'm not entirely happy with it. But after that, I'm pretty sure there will be some action, or at least a little road-tripping. I need to make this story live up to the categorization after all.**


	3. Running out of Time

**A/N: Happy New Year! I finally finished this chapter, so here it is. Also, I only put in a few minor changes in my updates of Chapters 1 and 2. I didn't like some of the transitions, but what I changed isn't that noticeable (I hope). Anyway, that's all I have to say at the moment, so I'll just stop talking. As always, the characters from ParaNorman and Danny Phantom do not belong to me.**

Norman experimented with sitting on his hands. It didn't work. His whole back was cramping up after so much time in the backseat of Mom's car. They'd been driving all of yesterday and most of today, but the highway still stretched ahead as far as the eye could see.

He still wasn't sure how he'd convinced Courtney to drive them all the way to Wyoming. Not only that, she had practically _stolen_ Mom's car from out of the driveway. Plus, she'd used her own money to pay for last night's crummy motel room and some dinner. Maybe Aggie's curse had changed her more than she had let on.

He'd known that what happened had made them a lot closer as siblings, but he hadn't thought it had reached the point where she would help him with paranormal events at the drop of a hat. Norman groaned inwardly. Speaking of which...

The Amity Park kid was still creeping him out. He knew that the kid needed help, that whatever was wrong with him probably wasn't even his fault. He knew that. But that didn't stop that blatant feeling of _wrongness_ that seemed to hang about him like a cloud. It wasn't just the fact that the kid had no shadow. It was more than that. The kid just radiated a sense of 'not supposed to be this way.'

Norman hadn't ever been scared of someone like this before. The ghosts back home didn't scare him. Even when Aggie had been trying to _kill_ him he hadn't felt like this. The kid hadn't even given him a good _reason_ to be scared of him. He was just… _wrong_.

Even Courtney felt it. Norman could tell. Every so often a shiver would go up her spine, and she had pointedly avoided looking at the kid since he'd gotten into the car.

Norman checked the map again. They needed to figure out what was going on with this kid and fix it — fast. If Courtney was picking up on Amity Park kid's vibe too... Well, that just _couldn't_ be a good sign.

To make things worse, about four hours into yesterday's drive, the kid had stopped reacting to things. Not that he really did much before, but he would look nervous and run his fingers through his hair occasionally. Then out of nowhere, he'd just stopped. His expression went blank and his eyes stopped darting around. A few hours ago, Norman had noticed he wasn't even blinking. Whatever was wrong with him, it was getting worse.

There were just a few more miles left to go before Amity Park. It was the next exit. Norman glanced over to his left. The kid was staring unseeingly at the back of Courtney's seat. His hands were in his lap, his face expressionless. They didn't have much time.

* * *

A box hit the side of Tucker's head, knocking him over. Served him right for spacing out in an abandoned warehouse. He groaned and rubbed the new knot in his skull. At least there hadn't been anything heavy in it this time.

Sitting up, he scanned the room for the ghost responsible. He wasn't hard to find. After all, a blue man in overalls surrounded by flying boxes wasn't easy to miss. Now he just had to catch him. Easy, right?

Wrong. Of course it couldn't be easy. The ghost had knocked over a tall pile of boxes, burying his backpack in corrugated cardboard. The backpack that carried all his tech. Including the Fenton Thermos. _Crap._

He almost radioed it in before he stopped himself. It was the Box Ghost for God's sake! He might not be able to fight ghosts like _Skulker_ by himself, but he could handle the freaking _Box Ghost_. He just had to get his backpack out from under that mountain of boxes. Piece of cake.

"Beware!" The ghost threw another few boxes at him. Ducking, Tucker made his way over to where (he hoped) his backpack was, and began to dig. Dodging another box, this one filled with snow globes, he found a strap and pulled.

When his backpack finally came loose, he stumbled backward and nearly fell. Regaining his balance, he pulled out the thermos and grinned.

The Box Ghost's face fell, "Not again..." he mumbled, before a swirling beam of light sucked him into the cramped confines of the Fenton Thermos.

"Ha!" cried Tucker, "Take that!" He tossed the thermos from hand to hand carelessly as he walked out of the warehouse. He held the thermos up to his mouth and spoke into it with his best 'manly voice,' "Why yes, I _did_ save our fair city from yet another ghost attack. Yes, I did it all by myself with no help whatso—"

A car nearly running him over interrupted his train of thought. "Hey, watch it!" He yelled.

But the woman in the driver's seat wasn't listening. She ran out, nearly ripped off the door to the backseat, and started pulling someone out.

A boy's panicked voice rang from the inside, "He's not breathing!"

Tucker hurriedly pulled his phone out his bag. "911, what's your emergency?"

He was about to answer, but then he saw who the kid had been shouting about and promptly forgot how to breath. He dropped the phone. The screen smashed on the sidewalk, but he didn't notice. This couldn't be happening. Oh, God, it just couldn't be happening... _  
_

It was Danny. And he was very, very dead.

 **A/N: Sorry about the cliffhanger (kinda). I was going to continue for a few paragraphs more, but then I realized that this was the best place to end the chapter. I hope I didn't make Tucker too OOC, I've never written in his viewpoint before. Any reviews are greatly appreciated!  
**


	4. A Strange Occurrence

**A/N: Sorry about the long wait! School just started up again, and I got a serious case of writer's block, so… Anyway, I hope you enjoy! The characters from ParaNorman and Danny Phantom do not belong to me, and any reviews are greatly appreciated.**

The waiting room was small and clean and sterilized. The light in the ceiling flickered every so often and you could hear the faint buzzing of circuits. The few people who were there sat quietly on blue plastic chairs, barely stirring as someone new was rushed past them on a stretcher, surrounded by shouting EMTs. Apparently, this happened far too frequently to get worked up about.

No one said a word, or even noticed, as three children slunk through the door, following the chaos. One was near tears, his breath coming in wet, audible gasps. He walked across the room, his footsteps unnaturally loud on the white tile floor, and fell into one of the blue plastic chairs. It creaked beneath him and he readjusted his red baseball cap, unintelligible curses muttered under his breath.

The youngest of the three looked terrified. His lip trembled and he was gripping a girl's hand, presumably his sister's. She murmured comforting nothings as she guided him to a chair, before sitting down beside him. He continued to clutch at her hand like it was his lifeline. Like she was the only one there who could keep him together.

She herself appeared to be the least grief-stricken of the three, but even she wasn't left unaffected by whatever had happened. Her brow seemed permanently creased in concern, and her eyes were abnormally bright.

Only one person noticed their entrance, although he didn't let on that he did. After all, everyone who came here had the same look on their faces when they walked through the door. Scared. Tear stained. Nothing made these three any different.

The man snapped his magazine up, the crack of the paper sharp in the blank, sterile air. After all, he had his own problems to worry about.

* * *

Tucker tried Sam's phone again. "C'mon, c'mon…" he muttered under his breath. After what felt like an eternity, she finally picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sam. It's Tucker." He looked up at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to say it. "Sam, something… Something's happened."

There was some shuffling in the background. "What's wrong?"

"I… I'm at the hospital. Something's happened to Danny."

A pause. "This is a prank, right?"

"Wha— no! I'm serious, Sam! He-he had a heart attack or something! He's in intensive care!"

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"He showed up with some kid and his sister! They said he just collapsed and—"

"No he didn't."

"Sam! I'm trying—"

" _Tucker!_ Cut the crap and listen to me. Danny isn't at the hospital. He's with me, so you can stop pretending that—"

"What? But he's—"

"I'm at his house. We're doing Lancer's group project today, remember?"

"But, no — He's in the _emergency_ room! I just saw the EMTs carry him in on a stretcher two minutes ago!"

"You're really not gonna give it a rest, are you?"

"Sam, this isn't a prank! Danny could be _dying,_ and you need to get his parents and come to the hospital!"

Tucker heard some indistinct mumbling on the other end. He waited. There wasn't much else he could do. He swallowed, trying to get rid of the unbearable tightness that had suddenly crept across his throat. Then, "Dude, you have _got_ to time your pranks better."

Oh, God. "Danny?"

"Who else? Tuck, Sam's gonna _kill_ you."

"But… but you're _dying_! The doctors said your _heart_ stopped…"

"Um… what?"

"How can I be talking to you?"

"It's called a phone, Tucker. Seriously, what's going on? Sam said you told her I'd had a _heart attack_? I mean, seriously? If I was gonna die, it's not gonna be from a—"

"This can't be happening." Pushing down the panic, Tucker had a sudden idea, "Wait, did you use the Ghost Catcher or something? Is that how you're—?"

"No. Of course not. Why would I—"

"Danny." Tucker regained some of his composure. "I just watched you _die_. I rode in the _ambulance_ with you."

"But I'm right here. I keep telling you, I'm _fine_."

"Exactly. So what the crap is going on?"

 **A/N: I'd like to note that (as of now) I have never been in an ER, so I'm basing this entirely on secondhand descriptions. I hope it's not too obvious. But beyond that, special thanks to anyone who has reviewed this story so far! It really means a lot to me, and I'm so grateful for the wonderful feedback.  
**


	5. Seeing Double

**A/N: Yikes! It's been three weeks! I'm really sorry about the wait. I've been super busy with school work,** **so my update schedule may not be as regular as I want it to be.  
**

 **Also, I didn't mention this before in my other chapters but I'm basically pretending that Phantom Planet never happened. I'm not sure if it'll figure into the story just yet, but I just wanted to let you know. That's all. No characters belong to me (I'm still trying to figure out if I have to say that every chapter).  
**

Even though he was taller than Norman, Amity Park kid looked very small in the hospital bed. That was off-putting enough. Even when he'd been having a panic attack about a stick, the kid had never looked like this before. Had never looked so... empty.

It was disconcerting, but what really made the situation strange was the kid sitting quietly beside the bed. Danny, Norman remembered.

He was sitting on the other side of the bed — in the only chair. His eyes never left Amity Park kid's face, barely hidden by his black hair. His face was expressionless, but it was the sort of expressionless where you could see all the emotions churning behind their eyes. Norman just couldn't figure out what they were.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Norman shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Why had Danny asked him to come in here if he wasn't going to say anything. He started to open his mouth, but then Danny spoke.

"What is he?" His voice was tired, and Norman suddenly realized that Danny was older than Amity Park kid. Not by much, just by a year or so. Just barely noticeable, but it was definite. So much for them being long lost twins.

"I— I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" He stood up, and Norman could have sworn his eyes flashed green. "You're—" he closed his eyes, then regained some of his composure, "You're the one who found him… So you must have some kind of idea, right?"

Norman looked at the ground, not wanting to meet his eyes again. It must have just been a trick of the light. "I… guess I might have a little bit of an idea."

Danny sat back down on his chair and looked at him expectantly. Norman studied his shoelaces. "I don't know if I'm right, but… this is my working theory." He could feel Danny watching him. "You… you know ghosts?" He looked up. Danny nodded. From his face, he was trying to suppress a smirk.

Norman bristled. He was sick of people making fun of him. There was clearly something weird going on here. "I think he had his ghost taken away." He snapped, "And you can call it stupid all you want, but that's my theory." He looked back at Danny. He was no longer smiling.

"You… you think he had his ghost taken away?" Danny wasn't looking at him. He had gone back to staring at Amity Park kid again.

Norman's irritation faded. "Kinda. It's like he's just empty."

Danny had stood up again. He was pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his hair. He started talking, half to himself, half to Norman. "But this isn't what it looks like."

"What what looks like?"

Danny faced him, his hair messy from running his fingers through it. "It can't be spectral separation. This isn't what they look like."

Norman frowned, a little taken aback from having his theory rejected so quickly. "But, he doesn't have a shadow…"

"Yeah. I've noticed, kid. Believe me, I know something's not right here."

Norman's frown deepened. Danny wasn't acting like Norman was crazy. He was treating him like he was ignorant. Well he wasn't.

"He told me he was broken."

Danny froze, then turned and looked Norman in the eyes. His face was white. "He said what?"

His eyes were definitely glowing now. Norman backed away nervously. "He— he had a stick, and he broke it in half." He felt his back hit the pasty whitewashed wall. Where was a doorknob when you needed one? "I think he was trying to tell me that he'd been separated from his spirit… that his other half was lost."

Danny's eyes had died down to their regular blue. He looked utterly terrified "But I'm still here…" he whispered, tugging at his shirt like he expected it to vanish. "How could he be…?" His eyes widened. "Oh." His voice was small. "Oh no."

But Norman had found the doorknob. He didn't wait to see what happened next. So he didn't see Danny sit down on the chair beside the bed, looking at the face of his doppelgänger with regret. "Why couldn't you have just been a clone?"

 **A/N: It's a little shorter than my other chapters, but I hope it was still okay. Also, I seem to have written myself into yet another cliffhanger, and I still haven't really explained what's up with Danny! Well, I explained a little bit... Now I just have to figure out how to explain the rest of what's going on _without_ a truckload of explanation. That should be fun. Any reviews are welcome! (Please tell me if anyone is OOC.)  
**


	6. Hiding

**A/N: So, I don't really have anything to say right now. Except:**  
 **to ShiraYukiShadow: That's... actually a really good point. Why didn't I think of that? Nevertheless, that's not really the direction I had in mind for this story... Though I kinda wish it was, 'cause that's brilliant.**  
 **On to the story! No character belongs to me (except for maybe that OC who didn't say anything in chapter 4).**

Trash cans were smelly. That was probably a given to most people, but Norman hadn't really considered it before. Of course, he'd never felt the need to hide behind a couple of them either.

He shivered and drew his knees closer to his chest. He hoped nobody could see him. He didn't really have an explanation prepared for why he was sitting by the garbage cans behind a hospital. _The kid inside had eyes that scared me._ There was no way anybody in their right mind would believe that.

Come to think of it, he was a bit hard-pressed to even believe himself. People's eyes didn't just glow for no reason. Ghosts' eyes? Maybe. But people's?

No. It wasn't possible. Of course, a few months ago, he would've said that zombies were impossible too. But someone like Danny? Someone who seemed so... normal?

Besides, if he wasn't human, then why hadn't he sensed something off about him, like he had with Amity Park kid? Was it possible that Norman had just imagined the whole thing?

A creaking sound came from just out of his line of vision, startled him from his thoughts. The door. He backed up against the wall, desperately hoping that whoever it was wouldn't spot the bright, obvious red of his hoody. _Please be the janitor. Please be the janitor._

A head poked over the garbage cans. Norman relaxed slightly. It was the teenager who Courtney had almost run over. Not a monster. Not Danny.

"I thought you might be here," the kid said, offering Norman a hand. Norman grudgingly took it and stood up, scowling at the sudden sunlight. The kid either didn't notice the expression on Norman's face, or he didn't care. "I'm Tucker, by the way."

"Norman."

"Nice to finally meet you properly then." Tucker grinned, then gestured towards the trash cans, "Cool hiding place."

Norman looked down at his shoes. "How'd you find me?"

"Easy." Tucker leaned against the wall. "This is where Danny always goes when he's trying to avoid people."

Norman looked up. His confusion must've been evident on his face. Tucker's smile faded, "Danny... gets hurt. A lot. Sometimes, people notice. When they do, this is the one place where he can get some peace and quiet."

"Oh."

Tucker didn't say anything for a while. The silence was nearly as bad as it had been in the hospital room with Danny. Finally, Norman spoke again. He studied his shoelaces, "Danny isn't human. Is he?"

He could feel Tucker's eyes on him, but he didn't dare look up. "Is he?" It wasn't really a question.

Tucker sighed. "Listen, Norman. Danny's been my best friend for years. He can get a little freaked out sometimes. And sometimes, he can come off as a bit scary. But he would _never_ hurt anyone. He's a good guy."

"But he's not human."

There was a long pause. "No," Tucker said quietly, "Not entirely."

There was another pause, then Tucker's grin was back on his face like nothing had happened. "So, anyways, nice chatting with ya, Norman, but I'd better get back to the waiting room. Hospitals might be creepy as crap, but dude? Your sister is worth it." The door shut behind him with a bang.

Norman sat down again. He drew his knees back to his chest. The door softly creaked open again, but he didn't notice.

"And, dude?" Tucker's voice made him jump. "Danny might not be normal, but that doesn't mean you can't trust him. Besides, you don't really seem like the ordinary type yourself." The door shut quietly behind him.

Norman waited a moment, then he sighed and got up. He was being silly. What's more, he was being a hypocrite. Since when was being _human_ something that mattered to _him_? He brushed off the front of his hoody one last time, just to make sure there wasn't any garbage left on it. Then he followed Tucker back inside the hospital. It was time to talk to Danny.

 **A/N: Man, I really like writing Tucker. He's more fun than Norman. Too bad he's not really the main character...**  
 **Oh, and I know that Tucker has been confronted outright about Danny's identity before when Jazz found out, but Sam really handled it for him then. I think if he found a scared little kid who was CLEARLY freaking out about Danny's identity, then he would be more likely to tell the truth. Plus, Norman had kind of figured it out already. So Tucker's really just on damage control at this point. Norman already knows, so he's doing his best to make sure he's not scared of his best friend.**  
 **That's all I have to say at the moment. Reviews are loved!**


	7. Heartbeat

**A/N: Yeah... so, warning because this chapter is angsty. Think I'm gonna change the rating to T, just to be on the safe side. But, at least it's longer than my other ones! Also, the "I'm inevitable" that keeps on playing through Danny's mind is from Ultimate Enemy, and I've given Danny enhanced hearing. That's all.**

The voices were coming closer. Danny closed his eyes. His hands were shaking, even though they were steadied on his knees. He could hear them. Thirty yards away, in the waiting room. Coming closer every second. His heart sped up. _Badump. Badump. Badump._ The heart monitor kept time exactly, faint computer noises accelerating, synchronized with his heartbeat. That was messed up, even for him. He wasn't even connected to the monitor. Though, it did kind of have a weird sort of logic to it...

He could hear their footfalls. Sharp against the linoleum tile floor. And they were close enough now that he could make out what they were saying.

"What is he?" It sounded like that Norman kid. The footsteps stopped. Twenty yards away. He could hear Tucker tugging at his baseball cap, his eyes darting around.

Or was he just imagining it? Piecing a scene together from the fragments of overheard conversation. It sounded like something he would do. But then again, he might not be him for much longer.

 _"I'm inevitable."_ How many times had he gone over those words in his mind? How many times had he convinced himself that the crisis was over, that everything was fine? That that future was gone, his future self prevented?

There was a blip on the heart rate monitor. Danny jerked and snapped his fingers in front of his face. _Keep it together._ The steady beeping resumed.

"It doesn't matter." That was Tucker. Danny took a shaky breath, and steadied his hands on his knees again. So Tucker had told Norman something was different about him, but he hadn't told him _what._ He could work with that. _You're okay, you're okay, you're okay..._

"Oh, y-yeah. Of course..." The footsteps resumed, then stopped again. They were very close now. Danny could hear Norman's sharp intake of breath. "But I'd still like to know."

The heart rate monitor beside him sped up again. A green glow swirled at the edges of his vision. Danny took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The heart rate monitor did not slow down. The thump in his chest didn't either.

 _"You don't get it, do you? I'm still here. I still exist. That means you still turn into me."_

There was another blip in the monitor. It was longer this time, almost a full second.

 _Fifteen yards away._

 _"I'm inevitable."_

He could hear the faint scrunch as Tucker's eyebrows came together. As he tried not to answer Norman's question. It was undeniably loud, louder than it should have been.

Danny pulled himself into a ball, his eyes shut tightly and his hands covering his ears. There was too much. Too much information. This hadn't happened in years. Not since he was just starting out, in those first few weeks after he stumbled out of his parent's portal, and the lights had flashed in his eyes and every little sound felt like an earthquake in his eardrums. When every day he'd be afraid he'd collapse from a sudden increase in sound. It was just too much information. But he'd figured out how to avoid it. It hadn't happened in years. So why was it happening now?

His hands did nothing to stop the flow of noise. The heart rate monitor bleeped obnoxiously at him, keeping time with the drumbeat in his chest. The lights glowed through his eyelids. Tucker started talking again, but the heart monitor was too loud. Drowning out his words. The backs of his eyelids were on fire.

 _"I'm inevitable."_

Somehow, he had ended up on the floor. He didn't remember when he had gotten off of the chair. On the bed, he could hear his doppelgänger tossing and turning. _Wasn't he supposed to be comatose? Wasn't that what the doctors said?_ Of course, what the doctors said didn't really have anything to do with it at all. The kid wasn't normal. He didn't have to follow the normal rules of medicine. Or physics for that matter. What had Norman said? That he didn't have a shadow?

Danny let out a dry chuckle from the floor, then stopped. It was too loud and too close to his ears. But seriously, how was it possible to not have a shadow? The kid was even less normal than he was, and that was saying something. Considering they were technically the same person. Well… parts of the same person, anyway.

 _"He told me he was broken."_

Norman hadn't known how right he'd been. Good thing Danny's twin had had enough sense to tell someone, otherwise Danny would've been taken completely by surprise. He could've turned evil and never even noticed. "I'm inevitable."

At least now he had some warning.

The footsteps outside had started up again. They were much louder than before, but he couldn't tell how far away they were. His ears were too unreliable to tell for sure. They could be over a mile away or right next to him. Danny settled on fifteen feet. That seemed reasonable.

Danny took a deep breath. Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths... The world gradually faded back to normal. Or maybe it happened in just a few seconds. It was hard to tell. He sat up cautiously, his hands still wrapped around his ears. The lights had faded back to normal behind his eyelids, and he slowly opened his eyes. The heart monitor had gone back to its steady beat, and the kid was lying still in the bed. The blankets were jumbled all about him.

He lowered his hands and closed his eyes, listening to the footsteps outside the door. Tucker and Norman were two yards away, max. Another blip on the heart monitor.

He couldn't stay here. He had to get out, he had to leave. The green glow came back to the edges of his vision.  
They weren't safe around him. Danny stood up, clenching his fists. Who was he kidding? They probably never had been.  
White rings appeared around his waist, and he floated into the air. He paused to look back at the kid in the bed. That was a mistake.

The door opened behind him. He whirled around.

Norman stood there, his eyes saucers. But he wasn't afraid, not like he should have been. Apparently Tucker had already filled him in. At least, the parts that Tucker knew.

"Danny?" That was Tucker. "Danny, calm down. Jazz is on her way. We're going to figure this out."

"We don't need to." Danny swallowed back the lump in his throat. "I know exactly what's going on."

Tucker took a step back. Obviously, that response hadn't been the one he'd been expecting. "What do you mean, you already know? How?"

Danny floated back down to the ground, but he didn't look at either of them. "Ever wonder why Vlad's such a horrible person?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just humor me. Please."

Tucker released a breath. He was obviously trying not to roll his eyes. "I don't know. The guy's a fruit loop, Danny. Some people are just jerks."

"But that's just the thing, Tuck. He didn't start out as evil. He only turned bad after the accident."

Norman was edging behind Tucker now. Tucker looked like he was trying very hard to stand his ground. "Danny, where are you going with this?"

He was scaring them. He'd never done that before. Vlad did that. Not him. _The future you did._ Danny took a steadying breath, then forged ahead. He had to make Tucker understand.

"He didn't start out evil. I didn't start out evil."

Tucker swallowed. He held out his hands in a placating gesture. "Danny. Calm down. You're not evil. Okay?"

"Yeah. Not yet." Danny walked towards the window. He looked back at them, "But since _he's_ dying, that's probably gonna change."

"Don't follow me." He turned intangible. "You'll regret it." And then Danny walked through the wall and out into the open air.

"Danny!" He could hear Tucker running toward the window. He wouldn't be able to find him. Not while he was invisible. Nobody would. Danny was going to make sure that the future him _never_ became a reality. And he didn't really care how.


	8. Ghost Zone

The controls of the Specter Speeder jerked beneath Tucker's hands as they hit a spot of turbulence, doing nothing to steady his already frazzled nerves. Norman sitting in the background making small, terrified noises whenever the Specter Speeder lurched ahead wasn't helping much either. Tucker still wasn't sure how the kid had managed to persuade him to let him come with him. Usually Tucker would've just said no, that he and Sam could've figured it out on their own. But this time wasn't usually. _Usually_ had Danny backing them up. _Usually_ they at least had some sort of idea of what was going on. This time definitely wasn't usually. It wasn't even close. So he'd let the Norman come. There was something with the kid, something that reminded him of Danny. He wasn't a halfa or anything, that much was certain. But the kid had definitely faced weird occurrences before, whatever they might've been, and without Danny they would need all the help they could get.

Plus, if the kid stayed, that meant his sister would stay too. Granted, she'd barely looked twice at him since she almost ran him over, but Tucker would wear her down eventually. He had that effect on women.

They'd left her back at the hospital to watch Twin-Danny, and to radio in any changes. The guy was comatose, but if Tucker had gleaned anything from Danny before he flew out the window, it was that the kid was important. And Tucker trusted Danny. So Twin-Danny was being watched.

Norman shuddered again as the Speeder lurched forwards again. Not taking his eyes off of the swirling expanse of green smoke ahead of him, Tucker said, "Hey, my driving skills aren't _that_ bad. They're actually pretty good considering I don't have a license." Norman didn't respond, and Tucker chanced a look to the side. Norman was clenching the armrests so hard his fingernails were leaving tiny indentations in the faux leather, his eyes squeezed tight shut. Tucker looked back out the front window again, "At least, I didn't think I was that bad a driver."

"It's not you. I-I just don't like flying." Norman said, his eyes still shut tight.

"Well, just imagine you're somewhere else." Tucker suggested. Then he shrugged. "Whenever I have to go the hospital, I always imagine I'm in a modeling agency, or at an Apple store or something. It usually helps."

Norman was silent for a moment. Then, "Yeah, okay. That's not working." He opened his eyes, and made a pointed effort of not looking out the windows. "I guess the whole 'Ghost Zone' thing isn't really helping with the whole 'go to my happy place' thing."

"You have ghosts? You know, where you're from?" Tucker said, yanking the controls violently to avoid a large pointed rock that had suddenly appeared out of the dense green fog.

Norman flinched as the Speeder swerved upward, but kept his eyes open this time. "Yeah. They sort of just hang around town. I never knew there was a dimension they lived in though. That's a new one for me."

"Yeah." There was a long silence. "I should probably get in touch with Sam. See how the mission's going on her end." Tucker clicked the button on the side of the Fenton Phones. The phones didn't really call anyone. It was more like talking into a long range radio. A trans-dimensional radio that could have more than one person talking at one time. Tucker would have to remember to ask the Fentons how they had managed to do that.

Sam answered almost immediately. "Hey. How's the Ghost Zone?"

"Green. And I almost drove into the River of Repulsion. Twice. How 'bout on your end?"

Sam sighed. "We're at Danny's house now. He's not _here_. And we can't find the Booo-merang anywhere."

"Did you try Jazz's apartment? Sometimes she takes stuff home with her after a ghost battle."

"Of _course_ I tried her place. I'm not an idiot. Besides, I'm with her now, and she says she never took that."

"Oh, hey Jazz! How's college?" Tucker said.

Sam's voice sounded irritated. "Tucker! Focus! Finding Danny?"

"I _am_ focused."

"Do you know what's going on yet?" That was Jazz. Apparently, she'd turned on her Fenton Phones.

"No," Tucker admitted. "But we're almost to the Far Frozen. Frostbite will be able to tell us."

"Call us as soon as he does." There was a click as Jazz turned her phones off again. A soft hum was the only thing telling him that Sam hadn't.

"Will do." Tucker said to the humming noise, and almost switched his phones off too. But then he thought better of it. "And, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry. We'll find Danny before he does anything stupid."

There was a long silence. "I hope you're right." And then Sam clicked her phones off again and the humming noise vanished, replaced with only crackling static.

Tucker reached up and turned his phones off. And then he saw it. A large smile spread across his face. He turned to Norman. "We're here. Welcome to the Far Frozen."

Norman looked at him blankly. Tucker's shoulders slumped "Oh, come on. That was probably one of the most dramatic things I've ever said. And nope. No reaction, no screaming fangirls, _nothing_. Danny gets all the luck." He guided the Speeder into a landing, grumbling the entire way. As the base of the Speeder touched down, it skidded slightly on the ice, and Norman's eyeballs nearly bulged out of his head. Tucker snickered and hopped out.

There was nobody there. Now they were going to have to walk God knew how many miles to find Frostbite. "God _dang_ it!" Tucker kicked a block of ice and received a sore toe. "Gah!" He hopped up and down.

Norman blinked and stepped out of the Speeder carefully. Then he looked up and froze, his eyes going wide. He pointed at something just behind Tucker.

Tucker's face brightened instantly, despite the throbbing pain in his toes. "Oh, don't worry," he said, turning around, "It's probably just —" His eyes settled on the thing that Norman had been pointing at. It was a very large thing, almost two stories tall, with four feet and a ravenous mouth filled with spindly, translucent teeth. Its blue fur was matted with something that had once been green — probably ectoplasm — and each foot sported claws that were as long as Tucker's arm. And it looked hungry. "You're not Frostbite," he told it.

The thing growled, all four of its eyes narrowing. Tucker glanced back at Norman. "Run!"

 **A/N: Hey! Not dead! Sorry it took so long to update. This chapter was not happy about being written. I had to rewrite it from scratch five times. Not fun. And it turned out to be kind of a filler chapter too.  
**

 **But on the bright side, I got to write another phone call! Yay!**


	9. Blackout

Everything around him was green. Lime swirls across forest green ones, slowly twisting and churning through one another like so many sickly hurricanes. It was not a pleasant sight. But it was a calming one.

It struck quite a contrast against the sickening dread in Danny's stomach. Against the rusty clouds boiling just past the edges of his vision, waiting for him to slip up. It almost calmed him down. Almost.

The bloodcurdling shriek from below him cut through the green like a knife, shattering Danny's already tense nerves. Before he could stop himself, he looked down.

The scene below him was not pleasant. The ice had been torn up by pounding feet, sliced to pieces by claws as thick as a telephone pole. The normally pristine white layers of permafrost had been turned to a green-red slush from blood and ectoplasm.

The Speeder was totaled. The cabin of it folded like origami, a thick gray line of smoke trailing up from the engine, tinged with the scent of burning oil.

Beside it, someone was curled up on the ground, clutching their arm, obscuring it from view. A slowly growing circle of red stained the slush beneath them. Danny's eyes widened as a small moan escaped the figure.

 _Tucker._

Danny dove. Screw getting to Clockwork, screw trying to fix this. He had to get Tucker out of here.

He landed on the ice and ran over to the prone body on the ground, slipping slightly in the blood soaked slush. Behind him, someone yelped and he whirled around, coming face to face with the kid from the hospital. Norman.

The kid wasn't in that great of shape either. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and one of the sleeves of his jacket had been ripped, exposing a long shallow cut along his shoulder. But he was still standing. And currently aiming a large bazooka at him.

There was a whir of electronics from the blaster's battery, and Danny leapt into the air, the bolt of plasma flying ten feet beneath his feet. A huge roar from behind him made something click in his head. Norman had been aiming at something _behind_ him. He spun around in midair, just as something large, blue, and hairy knocked Norman to the ground. The kid didn't get back up.

And then the bottom dropped out of Danny's stomach. The red clouds at the edge of his vision thickened, tunneling his vision. He fell to the ground. Distantly, the monster roared, but it was a muffled sound and Danny couldn't bring himself to worry about it. He blinked a few times, staring at the ground, trying to expel the fog obscuring his vision. But the green and red mottled snow only made his head ache worse.

From far away, someone yelled a battle cry. He felt a cool, hard hand on his shoulder that guided him to his feet. He closed his eyes as the red closed in around him.

The bloodstained darkness swirled behind his eyelids and the cool hard presence on his shoulder vanished. There was more yelling, and a feeling of heat in his hands. He distantly wondered why his feet weren't touching the ground anymore, but didn't dwell on it. He just wanted to sleep.

And so he did. Perhaps it was only a few seconds, perhaps it was for days. Honestly, it was impossible to tell. But when he opened his eyes, the rusty clouds had cleared somewhat, swirling at the edges of his vision once again. They were a bit closer than they had been before, and he wondered if that was bad.

Then he saw the scene in front of him, and his mind cleared. His eyes went wide and his fingers went slack. Danny fell to his knees, the legs of his jumpsuit immediately becoming damp from the slushy permafrost. The snow was much more green than it had been when he'd left. "No..."

All around him, there were bodies. Piled high in heaps and mounds, their bodies slowly evaporating into the air. A few of them were still alive, cracked lips struggling to form words in faces that had been burned beyond recognition, their eyes wide with terror as they followed his every move.

The monster lay dead a few hundred feet away, a huge gash on its stomach dripping ectoplasm that slowly dissolved in the snow. But that wasn't what drew his attention.  
Danny crawled over to Frostbite, his eyes burning. He lay a hand on the yeti's chest, flinching as the contact made the fur dissolve that much faster. Frostbite's eyes were glassy and wide with disbelief and betrayal. His icy arm was broken off at the elbow, lying several feet away from his head. "No, no, no, no..." Danny muttered, shaking him by the shoulders. "Frostbite, wake up. Please..."

 _A hard, cool hand on his shoulder made Danny glance toward him. Frosbite smiled at him warmly, sharp teeth just barely visible through his grin. Danny swallowed nervously as they walked past another clump of yetis._

 _"W-What was it you wanted to tell me?" Danny said, trying to act casual. "Something about Vlad?"_

 _"About you too, Great One. About all ghost-human hybrids such as yourself."_

There was a squeal of rusted metal behind him, but Danny didn't turn around. He shook Frostbite again hysterically. "Wake up. Tell me I didn't do this. Oh, God, please tell me I didn't." Careful footsteps behind him, squelching and sliding in the ectoplasm-soaked slush. Danny still didn't look behind him.

 _"What do you mean?"_

 _Frostbite's smile faded somewhat. He studied Danny's face thoughtfully. Finally, he said, "There have only ever been two hybrids, that we know of. Yourself, and the one who calls himself Vlad Plasmius."_

 _Danny shifted uncomfortably in the crisp snow. He wished he could shove his hands into his pockets, but settled for toeing a clump of ice in front of him noncommittally. "I already knew that."_

 _Frostbite laid his hand on Danny's shoulder again more firmly this time, the chill of his icy arm seeping through Danny's jumpsuit. "We do not have a lot to go on when determining the... nature of hybrids such as yourself," he said, wincing slightly. "The only information we have has come from things that hold true for Plasmius. The ghost population has... come to accept him as... a model for all hybrids. A way of predicting what would happen should another be created."_

Someone cleared their throat behind him, high and slightly panicked. Danny sniffed, blinking hard in an attempt to clear his eyes. "Is... is Tucker okay?"

Norman shuffled into view, favoring his right leg as he eyed him warily. Danny didn't look at him, but he heard him take a long breath before speaking. "I dragged him under the Speeder when..." Norman swallowed nervously. "But he's still bleeding... a lot."

Danny stared at Frostbite's face dully. The red had started swirled more prominently at the edges of his vision, but he could still see the damage all around him in extreme detail.

 _Danny tried to keep his voice light as he asked, "What does this have to do with me?"_

 _Frostbite gave him a smile, but it looked a little forced. Choosing his words carefully, he replied, "It is merely a warning, of the things that may hold true in your future. I do not wish for you to befall the same fate as your predecessor. I would not wish that on anyone."_

 _Danny's heart sank into his stomach. "What... what do you mean?" He asked softly. "What fate?"_

 _Frostbite sighed, then continued. "When a halfa is created, part of their... soul, I suppose you could call it, is split from the body. This is necessary for any ghost to form, so it makes sense that it would apply to human-ghost hybrids as well. That is why ghosts are ruled mostly by obsession. It is because part of their humanity has vanished from their consciousness._

 _"The difference between a full ghost and a hybrid, is that the hybrid remains connected to the piece of their humanity that split off from them. This is what happened to Plasmius, and, what I assume, happened to you."_

 _"That..." Danny hesitated. "That doesn't sound too bad."_

 _Frostbite shook his head. "That is because that was not my warning, Great One."_

 _Danny froze, his foot poised to kick the block of ice again. He swallowed. "Oh."_

 _"What happened to Plasmius was tragic. His humanity, his soul, escaped the Ghost Zone through a natural portal. The air in your world proved toxic to it. The piece of his soul did not survive, and Plasmius did not fare well. I have heard it was extremely painful. But I fear it may prove to be even worse for you, Great One, should your humanity ever find itself in the human world."_

 _"Why is that?" Danny was barely breathing. He was pretty sure he knew the answer._

 _"History has a habit of... falling back into place if given the opportunity." Frostbite hesitated, then forged ahead. "I have heard rumors, that you faced yourself in a future gone sour." He took his hand off Danny's shoulder as Danny took a shaky breath. "If these rumors turned out to be true, I... merely wanted to warn you. That the future you faced could still become reality, should you find your humanity wandering about in the human world."_

"We need to get him to the hospital." Norman was saying. "He doesn't look too good."

Danny shook his head and rose, shakily, to his feet. "I... I can't."

"I'm sorry?" Norman's fear was forgotten. He sounded livid. Danny didn't look at him. "He could die, and you're just gonna leave him here?"

Danny finally turned to him. His eyes were bright, and he kept them angled toward the ground. "I. Can't." He growled. The red fog was swirling towards the center of his vision again. He forced it back to the edges, trying to keep his voice calm. "I'm dangerous. I-I can't trust myself not to hurt you or Tucker." He avoided looking at Norman's face, instead opting to study a large stain of ectoplasm in the slush.

 _"Well, can't I just take it - my humanity - back to the Ghost Zone?" Danny said._

 _"If the situation arises, Great One, there will be nothing you can do to stop it. Plasmius attempted to, but he soon discovered that it was futile. Once his humanity stepped into the human world, found itself breathing in our air, it had doomed itself to a slow death. Nothing Plasmius did could have stopped it."_

 _Danny was desperate at this point. "I could stick it back inside me then. That could work, right?"_

 _Frostbite gave him a strange look. "If your hand was crushed, would you expect it to work correctly if it was taped back onto your arm? That is the equivalent of what your technology would do for you. If you re-merged with your humanity, the results could prove catastrophic. You could go insane, or it could corrupt the remainder of your soul, causing an even worse future to arise."_

 _"So, if it shows up, there's nothing I can do." Danny glanced up at Frostbite for confirmation, then looked back at the clump of ice when Frostbite nodded. "The future me will come back anyways."_

 _"That... is the most likely possibility, yes." Frostbite patted Danny's shoulder. "I merely wished to give you some sort of warning, should the situation arise. That way... you can get your affairs in order."_

"He's going to die." Norman sounded like he was trying very hard to keep his voice level. From underneath the Speeder, there was a soft moan. Danny could smell the blood slowly dripping out of the gash in Tucker's arm.

He turned away, setting his jaw. "Radio Sam or Jazz." He said shortly. "They can come pick you up." And then he took off into the air, leaving a stunned Norman behind him. Danny quelled a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down, but it did no good. The red was swirling into the center of his vision again, and he wasn't sure how long he could keep it at bay.

He angled himself in a different direction. There was no way he could find Clockwork at this point. He had less time left that he'd thought if he was already blacking out... He shook his head. There was no way he could find Clockwork's tower before his humanity's time ran out, and he flipped.

Best case scenario, he ended up like Vlad. Selfish, obsessed, and friendless. Worst case... He shuddered. Worst case scenario, he ended up a bloodthirsty monster. The way the monster was created could change, but somehow, he always ended up existing.

 _Those blood red eyes, insane glee written across every feature. "I'm inevitable."_

Now, the only option left was to get himself contained, away from people he could hurt, before it was too late.

Danny sped up, barely keeping his hands from shaking. There was only one person he trusted to keep him contained at this point. Only one person who would recognize what a danger he was to the rest of the world, and never let him go, no matter what face he wore.

But he had to get to her in time. Meanwhile, the red fog swirled ever closer.

* * *

Valerie had been having a rotten day. She'd had a double shift at the Nasty Burger, and they'd been short staffed, so she'd had to clean the bathrooms. It had been a horrifying experience. She'd never been so happy to leave.

She dropped her backpack down on the floor of her apartment. "Daddy, I'm home!" She called, then she shrugged. "Guess he's working late again." She walked into the living room, then she screamed.

Something lay on the ground in front of her father's favorite chair. A glowing something in a black and white skintight jumpsuit. Curled into a tight ball, and taking short, frantic breaths in the middle of her apartment.

Valerie took a step forward. "Phantom," She growled. Her suit whirled to life around her, and she activated a glowing blaster. She aimed it at the back of his head.

His white head rose, face a mask of terror. His toxic green eyes flickered to blood red, meeting hers.

"Help me." Phantom said. His eyes flickered to red again and he squeezed them tight shut. "Lock me up and make sure I never escape. Please." He curled back in on himself with a soft moan. "Before I hurt someone."

Valerie blinked, then her face curled into a smile. She retracted her blaster and pulled out a thermos. She would be happy to oblige.

 _There was only one person he knew that had gone up against his future self, and lived to tell the tale._

 **A/N: Yeah. I'm pretty sure this doesn't match up to the original outline I plotted out. So, sorry if it ended up being a bit strange. Let me know how I did! Was I too obvious in the 'mystery,' or does it veer into the uncharted territory of being too weird to believe? Or did I manage to strike a happy medium? (that would be awesome, but I highly doubt it's true) There's only a few chapters left in this. I might even finish it up in the next one. I'll try to update before the three week mark next time, but standardized testing is evil, so that might be a lie.  
**


	10. Buried Memories

The wires along Valerie's thermos lit up as she aimed it at the ghost in front of her. Her face stretched into a grin. "I've been waiting a long time for this, Ghost." Phantom swallowed hard, his face scrunched up in preparation for the blast. Then she flipped off the cap and pressed the button on the side of her thermos. But before she could react, Phantom's eyes snapped open and he leapt towards her, pinning her to the wall by her throat. Her shot went wide, the thermos clattering to the ground as her hands instinctively shot to the fingers around her neck. Her vision started clouding at the edges, and her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe.

Black bolts of electricity arced along Phantom's body. He cocked his head to one side, grinning. "Looks like you were a bit too slow this time, _Val_." The bloody glow of his eyes stained her vision, and she clawed uselessly at her throat again. A forked tongue flicked into view, probing his canines experimentally. _Hadn't they been shorter before?_

Phantom's grip around her throat tightened as his tongue flicked back into his mouth. He laughed humorlessly. "Well. That's new." He leaned closer to her, and her arms fell to her sides. "You know, you used to be so much _fun_. But now? You're just a wet blanket." His face contorted into a snarl, exposing thin white fangs. "And I despise wet blankets." Green flames appeared across his fingers, burning her throat as he tightened his grip around her neck even further. "Goodbye, Valerie."

And then the world went black.

* * *

"We're gonna have to ask her for help."

Sam shot bolt upright in the passenger seat and glared at Jazz. "Are you _insane?_ That psycho?"

Jazz kept her eyes on the road. "Look, I know it's not ideal. But Mom and Dad don't have a second Specter Speeder, and since the one in the Ghost Zone was destroyed…"

Sam groaned and sank back into her seat, scowling darkly at the road ahead. "Yeah, I know. But _Valerie?_ There's gotta be a better option."

"We don't have time to think of a better one," Jazz snapped back. "How long have they already spent in the Ghost Zone without the Speeder? One hour? Two? They won't last much longer if we don't get them out of there."

"Yeah, but —" Sam's phone ringing cut her off. She flipped it open, trying to keep her voice light, and failing miserably. "Courtney. Is everything okay?"

The voice on the other end sounded near panic. "I… I don't really know. A doctor just shoved me out of the room, but I think the kid's gone into cardiac arrest. Again."

Sam's shoulder's tensed, and she put Courtney on speakerphone. "Are you sure?"

"No," Courtney snapped. "I'm not sure, I just called you for the heck of it." Then she took a deep breath, and her voice calmed somewhat. "What do I do?"

"There's nothing _to_ do." Jazz said, her voice strained. "Just… stay there, okay? And let us know if there's any change. We'll try to find Danny."

Courtney started to protest, but Sam flipped her phone shut. "Bye, Courtney," she said. Jazz glanced over at her, and Sam sighed. "Fine. We'll do it your way." Then she spotted the thick column of smoke, and her eyes went wide. "Wait. Isn't that near Valerie's apartment?" She whispered.

A glance towards Jazz did nothing to reassure her. The other girl's mouth had drawn itself into a tight line, and a sudden jump in the car's speed showed she'd just floored the accelerator. Sam squeezed her eyes shut. _Please don't let it be Danny. Please._

But as Jazz pulled into the apartment complex, Sam's heart fell down into her stomach. Huge swaths of wall was missing, and large green flames danced along the edges of each crater. She leapt out of the car, not bothering to shut the door behind her as she started sprinting towards the burning building. The thump of a car door closing told her that Jazz was right behind her. _Please don't be Danny._

And then something hit her in the back and she was lying face down on the asphalt. Sam immediately tried to lift her head back off the ground, but she only succeeded in scraping the bridge of her nose on the road. She clenched her jaw, straining her eyes as she glanced to her left, then suppressed a loud yell in her throat as she caught sight of her left wrist. Mansons did not panic. They figured out what was going on, and then they figured out how to fix it. However different she was from her parents, they had _that_ much in common.

But the fact remained that there was a glowing blob of ectoplasm binding her hands to the road. _Why did this feel so familiar?_

She pushed the feeling aside. What did she have? A pair of immobilized limbs. A thermos just out of reach. But maybe if Jazz was still free…

A clawed hand tapping her on the shoulder startled her out of her thoughts. A voice whispered into her ear, silky smooth as poisoned honey. "Hello, Sam."

Sam's eyes went wide, and her brain froze. Distantly, she could hear Jazz yelling something, but she didn't pay attention. She knew that voice. Where did she remember it from? She closed her eyes, and an image danced across her brain, unbidden.

 _Bound and gagged in glowing green ectoplasm, a tall figure looming over her. Blood red eyes, flickering flames along his skull._ Her eyes shot open, her heart stopping in her throat. _No, it's not real._ But the memories kept coming.

 _Mrs. Fenton, training a gun on a ghost that looked_ so _familiar, "What have you done with our boy?"_

 _And the ghost laughing at her, cruel and merciless in his madness. "I am your boy."_

The huge bang. The feeling of the flames rushing toward her, bound, helpless, unmoving. Wanting to scream through the glowing gag, to get up and run far away, even as she knew it was too late.

 _"What kind of parents are you anyway? The world's leading ghost experts, and you couldn't even figure out your own son was half-ghost!"_

The world on fire. The smell of burning sauce, so torturously real in the back of her throat, signaling how close the end actually was.

 _Leering at her, red eyes glowing murderously as his head flickered. "But me? My future? I'm inevitable."_

How Jazz's eyes widened in fear as the thermometer on the vat of sauce flickered closer to the danger zone. The way Tucker yelped just once through his gag as the flames shot past them, how the whole world froze for a split second as she realized he was dead.

How the piece of shrapnel felt as it shot through her stomach, coming out the other side and embedding itself in the wall behind her.

And then waking up in Lancer's classroom, like nothing had ever happened. Like nothing was wrong. Like she hadn't just died.

But right now, Sam remembered it all.

Her breath shortened to tight gasps through her nose, she was sure she could still smell the Nasty Sauce burning. And the boy with silky smooth voice smiled into her ear — _No, it couldn't be him, not the flaming hair over insanity personified. Not his red, red eyes. Not him, anyone but him_ — "Remember me?"

Sam took a shaky breath and let it out slowly. "Hello, Danny."

Her mind raced as the boy laughed, his poison honey voice loud in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. She could get out of this alive.

She always had before.

 **A/N: What? Another chapter in under a three week period? No way!  
**

 **At least, I'm pretty sure it's been less than a three weeks this time. I've been procrastinating big time, though, so it's hard to be sure. It's really weird. At first, I started doing this while I was putting off homework. Now I'm just putting off everything and sketching ghosts in my notebook instead.  
**

 **Master procrastinator at work here, guys. Do not do as I have done, or else you'll end up trying to build a catapult in three days. Which is not fun.  
**


	11. Hank

**Warning: There is one (1) swearword in the following chapter.**

When seen from above, the Far Frozen seemed like a disaster zone. The once pristine snow was now a smattering of glowing green on rusty red slush. Slowly evaporating corpses of the resident yetis lay in heaps around what appeared to be a half crumpled tank. The ghosts flying overhead knew better than to land there, instead skirting about the edges like skittish rabbits who know a hawk is in the area. Whoever had done this, was not a thing to be trifled with.

At ground level, Norman could have affirmed that this was a place to be avoided at all cost. But with the Specter Speeder wrecked, there was no way they would be getting out of it anytime soon. He closed his eyes, and pressed the button on the side of the Fenton Phones again. "Anybody listening?"

He was met with a crackle of static on the other end. Norman opened his eyes, gritting his teeth in frustration, and tore the phones out of his ears, throwing them across the ectoplasm stained snow. They landed barely four feet away, floating gently like they were underwater. He watched them fall with mixed satisfaction.

Sam had said they were on their way almost an hour ago. He and Tucker were running out of time. Norman had done his best to patch up the gaping hole in Tucker's arm, but the first aid kit in the Speeder had been on fire when he found it. The only parts that had survived had been a few assorted band-aids and the warped remains of a melted needle that had probably once been used for stitches.

Norman had never taken first aid lessons, but even he knew that that wouldn't be enough. He huddled in on himself, drawing his knees into his chest. "We're going to die out here, aren't we?"

Tucker didn't answer. He'd passed out hours ago. The only outward indication that he was even still alive was the shaky rise and fall of his chest. The air in the Ghost Zone was killing him as much as the loss of blood. It was killing them both.

Norman didn't get up to get the Fenton Phones out of the snow. His head felt uncannily heavy, and he honestly just wanted to lie down. The fact that he might not wake up was the only thing keeping his eyes open at this point.

He took a shaky breath and released it, watching cross-eyed as the muddled green air swirled around his nose. Then a hand landed on his shoulder and he nearly leapt out of his skin. A tired, deep voice spoke into his ear. "You don't look like you belong here."

* * *

There used to be a man in the waiting room of Amity Park Mercy Hospital who never left. He sat in his blue plastic chair, reading a magazine advertising products that were discontinued years ago, eyes silently sliding over words he'd read a thousand times before, waiting. He'd been waiting for years. That's what waiting rooms were for, he supposed.

Occasionally, this man would take notice of the people walking around him, but as time went on, these times became less and less frequent. Their eyes slid over him, and the faces started to blur together. Their faces all looked the same; bloodshot eyes, mouths curled downwards into frowns. Even his twenty-five year old magazine had more variety.

The man knew he should move on, just leave the waiting room. But he never could bring himself to walk out the doors, into the open air. It never felt right. This was the place he had died, after all.

Once, he had encountered someone who could see him. An old woman, her iron hair wrapped up in a tight knot in the back of her head, who had sat beside him and looked him in the eye, and told him straight that he needed to leave. That if he stayed for too long, he wouldn't be himself by the time he left.

He had politely told her to shove it and leave him alone. She hadn't come back, and he hadn't felt the urge to talk to anyone since then.

But today, that teen with the frantic look in his eye that said he had seen a bit too much, and the skinny kid holding his sister's hand who had locked eyes with him; that had been something else. But he'd found himself getting a bit too interested, and had buried his face in the out-of-date magazine again. It wasn't his problem.

But when a weight settled down in the seat next to him, and he'd felt that half forgotten tingle on the back of his neck that meant someone was watching him, he'd sighed, and folded his magazine between his knees. "What do you want, Lucille?"

Her hair had a little more white in it than it had three years ago, but her face still had that disapproving look on it, and her glare hadn't softened with age. She looked him in the eye. "I see you didn't move on like I asked you."

The man made a conscious effort not to roll his eyes. He failed miserably. "I never asked for your advice. However, I _do_ remember telling you to shove off."

"You know she'll be okay if you're not here."

The man's fingers itched towards the magazine between his knees. "What do you _want_ , Lucille?" He repeated.

Her gaze was just as piercing as he remembered. "That scrawny boy, the one who came by this afternoon. Did you see him?"

The man stared at the wall across from them sullenly. "No. I didn't see a boy come through here."

Lucille pursed her lips. "You're a lying ass, you know that Hank? You see every man, woman, and child that comes through those doors, so don't you for one _second_ pretend you don't know who I'm talking about."

The man rolled his eyes again. "Fine. I saw him. What of it?"

"The kid's in danger."

"So?"

Lucille uncrossed her legs and leaned towards him. "That boy may be the most talented medium I've ever come across. And right now, we need him."

Hank sat up a little straighter. "He's a _kid_ , Lucille. Whatever needs doing, I'm sure you can do it yourself."

"I'm old, Hank," Lucille snapped. "And yes, I have the gift. But I've never been good at persuading people, and that's what's needed right now. We need that kid, now more than ever."

The man sighed. "Fine. I'm not saying I believe you, but fine. Why come to me about it?"

Lucille looked down at the clasped hands in her lap. "The boy just happens to be in a place I can't get to. It's only accessible to spirits."

Hank raised an eyebrow at her pointedly. "How do you even _know_ where he is?"

Lucille smirked at him. "Believe it or not, Hank, not all spirits are as irritating as you are. They tell me things. Little things, but I'm good at piecing together the whole story."

Hank rolled his eyes. "And you couldn't get one of _them_ to go get him?"

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs again. "They weren't stupid enough to stick around after I'd warned them to leave. Plus, you're the only spirit I know who'd actually be dumb enough to do something like this."

Hank snorted. "You're not really helping your case here, Lucille."

The facade of carelessness lifted in a minute. She leaned towards him, faster than a viper, her piercing gray eyes fixed directly on his. "This thing? This _danger_ I've been telling you about? If it isn't stopped, it could destroy the entire world.

"And if the world's destroyed, Lisa will be too."

The man's gaze hardened. He folded his magazine into his pocket and stood up, brushing nonexistent dust off the legs of his pants. He looked Lucille in the eye. "What do I have to do?"

* * *

Norman whipped around, feet sliding in the green slush. The man behind him simply looked bored, and removed his hand from Norman's shoulder.

He was a short man, only a couple inches taller than Norman, with thinning red hair and wire-rimmed glasses. But the remarkable thing about him, was that the man standing in front of Norman was a ghost. Not an Amity Park ghost, but a proper ghost, like the ones they got in Blythe Hollow.

The man gave Norman a pointed look. "Let's go kid. I'm on a tight schedule, and you got work to do."

Norman's eyes widened. "I… what?"

"Great," the man muttered, tapping a rolled up magazine on his thigh. "Look, you're the medium kid, right?"

"Yeah…?"

"Okay then. Well _I'm_ here to get you out, so you can… go save the world." When Norman simply stared at the man, he sighed again. "Look. Kid. Come with me, and I'll get you out of this place, deal?"

Norman blinked, then his brain started working again. "I can't leave Tucker."

The man rolled his eyes. "I never said you had to, kid. Now hurry it up, this is a limited time offer." He offered Norman his hand.

Norman looked at it for a second, then grabbed Tucker by the elbow that hadn't almost been bitten off. Then he took the man's hand, and the world became a blur around them, the Far Frozen replaced by streaks of green and yellow in the blink of an eye.

And then, it was over and all three collapsed on the floor of the waiting room of Amity Park Mercy Hospital, to the great distress of the young man at the check in table. Several EMTs rushed Tucker into the ER on a stretcher within minutes, and then the waiting room was left nearly empty. The only ones there were Norman, the middle-aged ghost, and an old woman sitting in a blue plastic chair.

The man walked over to the chair beside her and sat down, pulling out his magazine. "I did my part, Lucille. Now, I'd enjoy it immensely if I could get some peace and quiet in here."

The old woman smiled warmly up at Norman. "Don't mind Hank," she said. "He's always been like that." The man beside her snorted, and irritably turned a page of his magazine. She leaned towards Norman conspiratorially and whispered, "I've told him over and over to move on, but he just won't listen."

Norman rocked back and forth on his heels. "Why's that?"

Lucille opened her mouth, but Hank cut her off before she could say anything, never once looking up from his magazine. "My daughter, Lisa. We were both in a car accident a little over a decade ago. She's still in a coma." He shrugged. "I'm not leaving this hospital 'til she does."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Norman said, looking down at his sneakers.

Hank gave him a funny look. "It's not your fault kid. It's just life. Bad things happen." He went back to his magazine with a huff. "You might as well tell him about whatever it is the kid needs to do."

Lucille scowled at the man, and he smirked into his magazine. Then she turned to Norman and gave him a comforting smile. "We've got a lot to talk about, hon. And not a lot of time. So you better get comfortable."

 **Hi… um… so I can explain the long wait. It's not a very good excuse, but I do have one. So basically, finals week and AP testing combined with every single teacher deciding to have three quizzes every week just left me feeling a wee bit overwhelmed.**

 **But now that finals week is over, I finally managed to finish this chapter and get it posted. (And btw Chapter 2 of MM &CF is finished, I just need to get my beta reader to look over it. Just in case any of you were following both)**

 **And no. The catapult thing did not end well. I won't go into it, but it kinda fell apart halfway through  
**


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